Tag Archives: Leahwould

A Morning Battle #leahwouldblog

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This morning, the bed won.

Hands down.

I was unable to escape from it in time to begin my day as I would have liked; its weapons were stronger than mine.

I was prepared, too!  I had every intention of waking up at 5:00am, gathering everything for my day, showering, and then going to yoga by 6:30am. 

Last night, I set two alarms–my regular alarm clock and the one on my phone.

My first mistake:  I started a movie last night before bed, and even though I’ve seen it countless times, I still stayed up to finish it.  Because I’M AN ADULT!  I can stay up and watch movies if I WANT to!!!!!  (Ha!  I’m learning that this statement becomes less and less true, the further into adulthood I climb.) 

The first alarm rang this morning; “Shot at the Night” by the Killers, along with the buzz of the vibrating phone, began to echo through my room and into my dreams, but not enough to bring me out of REM sleep-land.  Instead, my hand took on a life of its own and swiftly pressed the “snooze” option on the screen. 

Five minutes later, the alarm clock begins to wail.  My hand, again, comes to life, and apparently was on the bed’s side in this battle, because it (LESS THAN SMOOTHLY) slapped the alarm clock, forcing a snooze.  (I imagine at that moment that it looked warily around with invisible, slanted eyes before settling back under the covers.)

This happened at least five more times before my trusty (or hungry) cat, Buddy Van Bizzle Dizzle, decided to attempt a “rescue”.  As my phone began singing and buzzing AGAIN, Buddy quickly jumped to the nightstand and proceeded to plop himself down on top of the phone.  Now, when my hand roamed around, searching for the snooze option, it could not be found.  The phone was invisible to the sightless hand.  There was only a vibrating/singing cat.  I can only imagine the cat’s smug look on his furry face as he watched my hand flail about, tapping every other inch of the nightstand except for where he sat.  This lasted merely a minute.

When the hand finally figured out what was going on, he pushed the cat over and off of the iPhone. 

**POKE** (Snooze option on screen)

NOW…cue the alarm CLOCK!!  This time, there were no problems in snoozing further.  Even a cat of Buddy’s monstrosity could not cover an entire clock in time. 

Mr. Bizzle Dizzle had not quite given up, though. 

After the button was hit on the clock yet another time, the cat decided to use desperate measures.  He reared back…set his sights high, then LUNGED!!

I was awoken suddenly with a giant ball of fur wrapped around my head, with back claws digging into my neck and teeth scratching my scalp!  This lasted a full 2 seconds before the cat jumped back down and started licking my hand.  Obviously, he was hungry, and this was his way of threatening to eat my head if I didn’t get up and feed him NOW.

I looked at the clock.

“FUCK!  I need to get up! I’m late!!  Wait…what’s going on?”

The sheets had wrapped around me like a giant cotton python!  Amidst all the snooze-hand-flailing, I had been turning in my sleep so that now I was trapped in a coccoon of linens!  I began thrashing around as soon as I knew I was in danger of being trapped further.  A sense of sclaustrophobia and panic began to grip me.

AT that moment, BOTH alarms  began chiming and singing at the same time. 

“UGH!!”

**WRITHE!**

“WHY!!??? ….Aaaaarrrrrggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!”

*SMACK*

*THWACK*

I escaped the bed, and the alarms had been silenced for good.  But I had already lost, for the bed kept me in its clutches long enough to make me late, for both yoga and work.

Until the next time, BED…..until next time….

 

 

Worst Typo Ever!

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Occasionally throughout my day, I check my gmail.  If I want to do so, I go up to the address bar in my Internet Explorer, and type ‘gm’, at which point, it automatically fills in the rest of the words ‘gmail.com’, so all I have to do is press ‘enter’.

Apparently, today, my finger slipped, and an ‘f’ was accidentally typed in front of ‘gm’, and then ‘enter’ was pressed. 

What was pulled up was NOT my happy little inbox, but instead, an article on fgm.  Female Genital Mutilation.  It has a Wikipedia page and everything!

WORST TYPO EVER!!!!

Happy Monday, Everyone. :P

Pumpkins. This Post has nothing to do with Actual Pumpkins. #leahwouldblog

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Three words: “Pumpkin Pecan Waffle”

These words may have saved my life as I know it.

I truly wish I could tell you that this was the heavenly breakfast I made on today’s crisp, fall morning.  I am fairly certain I COULD make it if I wanted to.  (And, I suppose after my husband reads this, he will suggest I prove that statement!)

But, NO.  This is the scent of the candle burning in our kitchen.  When I first spied the label to this olfactorious delight, I KNEW it would smell amazing.  (P.S. Olfactorious should be in the dictionary as, “a mix of the word ‘olfactory’ and ‘glorious’; also meaning to smell so fucking good that real words CANNOT express the magnificence.)

I found this candle when I was in the search for some lotion.  Not just any lotion, but one that smells the same as my Pumpkin Cupcake hand-soap, that was given to me by my Lovely, Angela, for my birthday.  Every time I wash my hands, I WANT TO EAT THEM!  So maybe the soap is turning me into a zombie.  Perhaps that’s really how “zombies” come about in the future!!  Everyone starts wearing lotion that smells and tastes like cupcakes, and PEOPLE’S SENSES OVERRIDE EVERYTHING.  All they want to do is eat cupcake-flavored humans!

Before I thought about the possibility of being eatin’ by “Cupcake Zombies”, I wanted the delicious-smelling lotion. 

ALAS!  They DO NOT MAKE LOTION in that scent!!!

“WHA__?!!!!!” **Mouth agape**

(I think Bath and Body Works secretly knows about the possibility of Cupcake Zombies.)

When the sales lady told me that what I was seeking did not exist, I…………….. maintained my composure.

Sure, in my head……

I began grabbing pumpkin cupcake hand soap dispensers and blasting them all over the shelves of lotion.

“You don’t make this scent in lotion!??? I’ll show you how to make the lotion SMELL LIKE FUCKING CUPCAKES!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

**Pumps/shoots soap onto every lotion shelf AND employee at lightning speed!**

 

 

(Pause…for effect.)

 

 

 

 

But really, outside my head….

I saw the candles, and before my inner self could take over, I grabbed one that had a pumpkin on it.

I read the label.

As I mentioned earlier, it was “Pumpkin Pecan Waffle”.

Slowly, I lifted the lid, and I brought my dose down to the wax.

The raging 2013 Pumpkin Soap Massacre of Bath and Body Works was successfully averted.

The world can now sleep soundly………until the cupcake zombies arrive, that is.

Saturday’s Dreaded Lists #leahwouldblog

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It has been a rough day for many people today, and in particular, two of my friends.  I debated on whether or not I should post a blog, because I thought that, perhaps, it could be deemed inappropriate.  I mean, how dare I find something to laugh about on a day full of sadness??  But then, it occurred to me—-wouldn’t a day that has so much gloom in it be the MOST IMPORTANT time to find a little laughter?  I say, YES.  And I hope that this elicits at least a small smile, even if today has been horrible.

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I remember, as a small child, thinking to myself, “I can’t wait to grow up, because then I won’t have so many chores!”  Ha! 

When I was around  7-8 years old, my mother began giving lists of chores to me and my siblings every Saturday morning (which had to be completed by noon, when she arrived back home from work), plus we had our regular weekly chores.  As an adult, I would probably look at these same lists and chuckle, because I would now know that the WHOLE array of tasks could probably be completed thoroughly in just an hour or so…at MOST. But as a child……..

I can somewhat recall some thoughts that went through my head as soon I read the dreaded list that had been posted on the refrigerator…and the continuing thoughts throughout those mornings……

-“What the Fudge???  How did I get put on LAUNDRY duty again!!!?? I HATE LAUNDRY!!!  I’ll skip it for now.”

-“I’m pretty sure my bathroom doesn’t really need to be cleaned.  Look at it!! I would definitely be willing to eat off that floor!  I mean…I would surely eat off a plate on a placemat on top of a table on that floor!  That orange stuff? Pffsh…I think my tile is just the color-changing kind.  It is FINE.  Here…if I shut the door, NO ONE will even know that I skipped that chore.”  (I would shut the door..stand there thinking about it for five minutes..re-open the door…..and then spray some old perfume in the air and re-shut the door.) ” THERE!  Now, I’m done.”  (Sorry, Mom.  I think I actually did that a few times.)

-“Clean my room?  I thought it WAS clean.”  (There would be some books on the floor…and stuffed animals…and probably a few My Little Pony horses…and at least 10-15 MORE stuffed animals.)  “Oh THAT stuff??  No problem!!”  (As I shoved them all into the corner of my room.)  “There’s the floor!! Perfect!!” (‘The floor’ when you’re a kid is merely a 5×5 foot square that is clear of debris.)

I’d pull a few toys back out…they would have an adventure for 20 minutes….or an hour, depending on which of them needed rescued…and whether or not the stuffed puppies were granted powers to fly.

Then, I’d see that a favorite Saturday cartoon was on, and I’d spend the entire 30 minutes watching the cartoon while “dusting” the family room.

-“Wait…Can I just use this wood polish on the glass parts of the table, too?  Well sure I can!!! Those streaks will blend out when enough people have put their hands on the table….right?…oh look! My favorite commercial!” (Dust rag is left on the table.)

Another hour has passed.

-“Dishes are stupid!  Why are we out of paper plates?  WHO ATE ALL OF MY FAVORITE CEREAL?? I wanted a third bowl of it!  Ewwwwwwwww DISHES are GROSS!!!”

-“Why can’t we have a normal vacuum?” (We had a Rainbow, which worked REALLY well, but consisted of two parts: The head on the hose that you pushed around the floor, and the motor with the tank of water that you dragged behind yourself.)  To vacuum the stairs required the skills of an acrobat.  “I hope this thing works on Legos……Aaaahhhh!! I dropped the vacuum’s motor and tank down the stairs!!!  Stop it! Someone stop it!!! LOOK OUT!!!!!”

When it came to laundry, a load consisted of ALL clothing that could be STUFFED into the washer. With a family of six, one can imagine how much the dirty hamper accrued in a week.  There were two types of loads.  The “white load” and the “everything else” loads.

-“Why the hell are there so many socks?? Who decided a ‘white load’ was legal!  There ARE NO MATCHES!!”  (I would stand and stare at the offensive load of laundry for 10 minutes before folding one item, and then I’d begin staring again, completely overwhelmed and deciding that it was more important that I find what “shapes” could be seen in the different, haphazardly placed clothing, as if it was a giant Rorschach test.) “Oh look!  A white elephant!  It’s holding a sock!”

After about 4-5 hours of working ‘diligently’, it would be time for my mother to return home from work.   I would hear the garage door opening, and at that moment, it was like I was injected with adrenaline! Suddenly, I was folding everything at lightning speed!!  Matching or not, those socks were being stuck together!  And by the time Mom walked through the door, I was “done” with my chores.

A Lesson in Lunch #leahwouldblog

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On a normal workday, my lunch-break is spent in the fitness room.  Today, however, it was spent alone at Minsky’s, wolfing down a cheeseburger and chugging iced tea.  I suppose that’s a perk of having a foot that hurts too much to try to do cardio class.

Regrettable?  Maybe…

But it DID spur on a CHERISHED memory–the first time I ate alone during a lunch-break…

It was in the beginning of my entrance into the delightful necessary world of working full-time; I was 16 years old, and the second semester of the school year had ended.  I had been working as a teller at the Bank of Lee’s Summit since that previous December. 

Most days, I packed my lunch and ate it in the security of the bank’s kitchen.  The day finally came, however, that I decided I would be more “like an adult” and venture out to a restaurant for my lunch.  Since I hadn’t been driving very long, you see, I was not the most adventurous person when it came to driving unfamiliar places.  Plus, it was hot out that day, and my car at the time had no air conditioning.  But now I’m just making excuses for my past self…

So, I clocked out for lunch and strolled my on-a-mission butt to my hot-as-an-oven Honda, and set off to find a glorious plate of sustenance.  Of the many choices in the restaurant world, you KNOW I was going to only pick the most classy place in existence!!

FAZOLI’S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hey, I was 16…..LIKE I KNEW what CLASS was in the restaurant world!!!  I thought fast-food Italian was GENIUS…….  Plus, they offered unlimited buttery breadsticks!!!  And this was back in the day where they had people walking around with BASKETS FULL of those little salty treasures!!!  YOU COULD EAT TEN OF THEM WITHOUT JUDGEMENT!!!! 

I ordered a plate that included three of the restaurant’s specialties, a portion of this food being lasagna.  I triumphantly picked up my plastic fork, and immediately dug in to the saucy, meaty goodness.  As my fork carried the first bite to my famished mouth, gravity decided to play a joke on me, and PULLED the food off the fork, then thwarted it DIRECTLY at MY BOOBS!!! 

But pffffshhh……. did I panic?  …..

 

 

FUCK YES, I DID!!!!!  I was NOT ready for this adult situation!!!!!  To make matters worse, I was wearing a white dress!!  I immediately grabbed ALL the napkins on the table, and begin dipping them into my glass of ice-water, and then frantically patting away the red sauce that then adorned my breasticles.  The mark of the SCARLET SAUCE must be removed!!!!!!!

After a frantic five minutes, I didn’t see any trace of the sauce on my dress.  I breathed a sigh of relief…I had done it.  I won.  Gravity had NOTHIN’ on me!!  I finished my meal with no more haphazard bites, and with a smile on my face that said, “I have conquered my lunch…ALL of you people SHOULD be FULL of AWE and WONDER!”  (Okay, so no one even noticed my debacle, to my knowledge, but in the first moments of sauce-falling, I felt as if ALL eyes were on me.)

I returned to the bank for the remainder of my full-time, barely-above-minimum-wage job, continuing to grin like an idiot.  Victory was glittering in my eyes as I helped all my lobby customers with the utmost confidence!!!  For those next couple hours, all was right with the world…

until I went to the bathroom.

Here’s the thing about wiping off your boobs at a restaurant table instead of in the bathroom….from the vantage point of my face, I can’t see directly under my boob.  And THAT, my friends, is the EXACT place that some lasagna meat sauce had decided to hibernate.

Don’t wear white to work.  IF you do, DON’T eat Italian food from a plastic fork.  Lesson learned.

An Unlikely Pet #leahwouldramble

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8:35am

My attempt at being girly has been thwarted.  You see, at approximately 7:56am this morning, I applied glittery, plumping gloss to my lips.  I knew that I would, soon after, be consuming a Zero Ultra Monster energy beverage.  There was no way I was going to miss out on THAT deliciousness!  To detour my glittery gloss from ending up on my energy-filled can, I grabbed a straw from the kitchen to use. 

Keep in mind that the only straws that can be found in the office kitchen are of the coffee-stir variety.  I am not even completely sure they would be considered straws in a community of straws.  In fact, I assume that if straws had their own world, these would be considered pets, therefore not necessarily doing the job of a straw, but serving a smaller, albeit meaningful, purpose (stirring the beverage that a REAL straw might be used for).  At this point, you have my apologies for my small digress.

So then I am drinking my Monster with a stir/straw, and am so proud of my wily effort of being girly that I set my can down for a moment and email Heather to tell her of my victorious feelings!  Due to the height of the can, and the lack of major carbonation, the straw sinks into the mouth-hole without me immediately noticing.  I reach for the drink to take another lovely sip, and Alas!  There is no straw!! “What happened?  Did I inadvertently take it out and set its sticky little body on my desk??  Why would I do that???”  I have a total of 5-10 seconds of searching around before it dawns on me where the straw REALLY is.  So now, with each gulp, I hold the risk of being choked and/or stabbed in the throat by a wannabe straw aka straw-pet.

“Girly” turned to “Dangerous”, and I’m completely fine with it.

Blips #leahwouldramble 7-2-13

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Random Thoughts of This Tubular Tuesday

  • “Used out of necessity,      under protest” ß      This is my favorite phrase that I’ve ever seen stamped on a five-dollar      bill.
  • I tried looking up      synonyms through a Word document to see if any existed for “Tubular”.  There were “no suggestions”.
  • I was a steady tree in      yoga this morning…most days, I am a wobbly one!  It must have been less windy in my      brain.
  • I think that having my      boob itch (My shirt is currently causing this discomfort.) is the      equivalent of when a guy’s junk needs to be rearranged.  I’m not exactly comfortable just groping      and clawing at my breast to fix the problem out in the open.  So if you see me heading to the restroom      often, it’s actually NOT to pee, but to tug at my shirt, rub on my boob      and say, “UGH” in frustration, until I can change into a new,      non-itchy-seam shirt! 

*wriggles in chair* ßNope! Didn’t work. UGH!

  • Sometimes, I wonder about      little improbable scenarios…like, what if I went to sleep, and then didn’t      wake up until I was 60?? Who would be there?  What will I have missed?? What a scary      thought!!!!  Then I revert back to      others scenarios like, what if I acquired superpowers?   Now THAT would be pretty sweet! I think…
  • Ahhhhhhh….the vicious and      delicious bread smell is back again!! DANG IT, TINA!!! Why must you cook      delicious smelling lunches?? Just to torture me!! I KNOW IT!!!!!
  • It is magnificently hot      outside!!  So hot, in fact, that at      the end of the workout, my eyes stung with a mixture of sweat, melting      mascara, and sun-block.  TOTALLY      WORTH IT.  I have to say, though,      that I’m pretty sure it’s a torture tactic for the trainer to pick a spot      to work-out in the heat…NEXT TO A POOL.       I will JUMP into that thing fully clothed next time, Sucka!!!!!!!
  • If I choke down ONE more      carrot today, I might go flippin’ crazy!!!       And I mean INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE ‘cause CRAZY CARROTS!!      AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!  (Oh Shit…it’s      already started.)

 

Ants & Cream #leahwouldramble

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If I were a mere six inches tall, this morning would have seemed like either a horror movie or an end-of-the-world experience.  There were at least ten different spots along the sidewalk/trail I noticed during this morning’s jog that were SWARMED with tiny, reddish-brown ants!  And I mean, I’d think,

“Oh look…someone dropped a giant clump of dirt on the sidewalk…wait…it’s…moving??”  (Here’s where the freaky, suspenseful music happens during horror scene!)

 I’ve NEVER seen that on the trail in the mornings before…and we have run there MANY times.  WTF happened to bring them all out??  I should have taken a picture, but I didn’t feel like sticking around, in case they decided to swarm UP MY LEG!

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There is a basket used to hold coffee creamer cups in the kitchen.  When the French Vanilla flavor runs out or runs low, I replenish it with the extras held in a box…on the top shelf of a cabinet.  This is one point in my day where being short is a downfall.  I have to stand on tip-toes, and gently nudge the box towards me until it tilts off the shelf, and then grasp it on the sides as it begins to fall.  One of these days, it is extremely likely that I will miss my grip, consequently spilling creamer cups all over my head and onto the floor around me.  Then I will stand there, frozen to that spot amidst all the creamers for at least 5 seconds, with a dumbfounded look on my face that reads, “Oh look at that!  Gravity works today!”

Dog Days #leahwouldramble

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The time is 8:15pm on a Monday night, and the temperature outside is a perfect 70 degrees, when I decide to take a jog with Coda (my Schipperke).  I’ve decided that he is going to build up his endurance/distance jogging along with me.  Being an already-active pup, he’s ahead of me.  All goes well until we come to a crossroads, and there is a car stopping at the stop sign to my right.  Of COURSE, this is the time that the so-far-well-behaved dog decides he must run after a rabbit, which also means he is cutting in front of me with his leash!  I begin to trip, and catch myself, but not before pulling a wanna-be dance routine involving the leash, my jumping on each leg, a half-spin, and the resulting laughter from the car stopped to my right.  I’m pretty sure that Coda did that on purpose, just for a laugh.  I totally flashbacked to that fateful Friday night a few weeks ago…you can go read that for yourself, though.

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The time is now 4:35am, and I have haphazardly dragged myself out of bed so that I can get ready for my first workouts of the day.  The dog decides, uncharacteristically, to wake up along with me and ask to be let outside.  Of course, I sleepily oblige.  In the midst of dressing myself and packing my bag with clothes/necessities, I hear Coda begin to bark.  Normally, when he’s first let out in the morning, he merely does his business, and returns to the door for his breakfast, so this barking is odd behavior.  (ONLY at this point, though…during the day, he’s a barking machine, making sure that NO BIRDS and NO SQUIRRELS enter his domain!) At this point, I know people won’t be happy to hear a yippy dog so early in the morning, so I rush out to retrieve him.  He is quite occupied, switching between barking up a tree and growling at something on the ground.  It’s too dark for me to make out what he is circling, so I slowly walk up to him and command him to sit (which he does…good boy). Then, out of my peripheral vision, I glance the large pair of teeth!  After jumping out of my skin, I take a closer look and see what appears to me a small possum, lying motionless on the ground, but with all teeth bared.  THOSE THINGS LOOK F*CKIN’ FREAKY!!!!!!!!!!  There’s no WAY I’m finding out whether or not that thing’s dead or “playing possum”!  I grab the dog and rush inside.  Is it extremely sad that I ran like a little wimp from a small (albeit largely teethed) rodent of an animal???

Random Rambles 6-3-13 #leahwouldramble

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The coffee won today’s battle.  *Rubs burnt fingers on left hand.*   I should’ve known better than to fill the mug to capacity.  Nor should I have been in such a rush to sip!

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Something I’ve learned from owning pets (namely cats/dogs) is that they may be a real pain the ass sometimes, but they truly inspire a lot of happiness.  They’re often the muses for random songs made up on the spot, and they make anyone AND everyone talk at least two octaves higher than their normal voice. LOL!  Just TRY to disagree with me, and you’ll be outnumbered!

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This past weekend was the Color Run, and it was a blast!  I definitely want to participate in it again next year, hopefully with the Maddster.  There were children rolling around and doing “snow angels” in the colored dust, and general merriment had by all! 

I did, however, end up with a part of my anatomy looking like that of a certain Sci-Fi movie.  After my post-run shower, where I literally scrubbed (what I thought was) every inch of my skin into oblivion, I glanced in the mirror, and seemed normal.  It wasn’t until later, as I raised my arms to blow-dry my hair, that I noticed my armpit was still a very bright blue!  I tried to take my loofah and scrub on it without making a mess, but this just ended up in the spectacle of me standing on one foot, leaning over the bathtub, and accidentally spraying droplets of water all over the floor, some of them blue.  I gave up and gave in to the idea of having an “Avatar armpit” for the day.  Also, my right ear is apparently also STILL full of blue, while my left ear is STILL full of yellow.  Good times…

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Someone needs to open a business in the suburban KC area that features roller skating and bumper cars.  I would probably frequent this establishment and enjoy it JUST as much if not MORE than a seven year old.  And I would hope there would be laser lights and glitter that falls from the ceiling!!

Another Dream #leahwouldramble

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It happened again.

Not a surprise, because it happens somewhat often.

A dream that feels real…completely and utterly real.

Most of it is a haze, but what I remember is being part of some HUGE school.  There was really strange training going on there, and at one point, I was driving a car in this gigantic, open area, and slamming my breaks often, to avoid running into all the large trucks carrying what looked like colossal missiles!  Then, whoever was in charge assigned me and four other people to be required to survive a day…completely blind.  We were going to be required to carry out certain duties like drive a vehicle, cook a scrumptious meal, and basically just SURVIVE without any help from others, relying on all of our instincts WITHOUT SIGHT.  I think the other people in my group were old friends from high school, but I can’t pinpoint who they were precisely.  I remember feeling panic and anxiety…loads of it!

Then, I awoke in real life to an earsplitting clap of thunder that jolted me from bed at 5am, feeling the same urgency, and was left wondering HOW I was going to carry out my day, blind.  Obviously, I was still half-way in dream mode because I was trying to figure out how was I going to drive to work…I thought,

”Should I practice by closing my eyes as I make my way to the restroom?   I can’t do this!  I can’t DRIVE and work on a computer BLIND!!!” 

I was seriously panicked for about 30 seconds before I realized it was all just a lingering dream.

Hot As Ice #leahwouldramble

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All I needed were two ice cube trays; they were the final component in my ingredients for “Sunday Food Prep”, five days ago.   

 Dead set on my quest to have freezer smoothies as part of my food prep, I added the trays to last week’s Thursday grocery list.  There were three possible areas I knew of in the grocery store where I thought I could find ice cube trays.  To my dismay, not one area held the required item.  After double-checking with a Price Chopper associate, my fears were confirmed.  At this point, it was no matter, because I still had two days until Sunday to find them….somewhere.

Last Sunday arrived, and I knew where I could go.  “Big Lots—they MUST have them!” I thought.  The Hubbs and I searched a few aisles before approaching someone about them.  They directed us to the other end of the store, where our labors continued to provide no fruit!  Another employee then pointed us in another direction, and like little, lost puppies, we followed.  Again, no ice cube trays.  It had seemed all was lost, and we had spent 25 minutes wandering around in vain. 

Then FINALLY, in our last moments, when we’d almost given up, we spotted them.  3 trays in a pack, and one of those packages were ALL OURS!  With giddiness and a sense of accomplishment, we bought the ugly ice cube trays.  It had only taken a total of about 60 minutes within three days to find them! (An hour of life wasted on the search for ice cube trays.)

Fast-forward to last night.  It’s grocery night again, and I’ve returned to Price Chopper.  Unfortunately, my mood at this point in time can be described as “stabby”, since I all really wanted to do was kick things over and make a mess of anything in my path!!  After making it through the produce section successfully (meaning, I didn’t throw fruit at anyone or squeeze any bananas into oblivion), I meander past the “seasonal aisle”. 

BEHOLD!!!!!  ICE CUBE TRAYS!!!!  And NOT ONLY are they in the spot I’d looked for them just a week prior, but they are cheaper than the ones we bought, and they are BEAUTIFULLY COLORED!…

While screaming at the top of my lungs, I plucked each of the green trays from their hanging spot, and chucked it as hard as I could towards the produce section.  “You’re GREEN!! GO LIVE WITH YOUR GREEN RELATIVES!”  Then the orange ones, I threw across the ENTIRE STORE in a perfect spiral just like a football!  I then dropkicked all the blue ones towards the meat counter. “You want ICE?? I’ll give you ICE!!” All the rest of the rainbow colors, I slammed to the ground and then began jumping up and down on them, smashing them into tiny little pieces, so the ground looked as if it was covered in sharp, plastic confetti! 

“Where were you last week when I was looking for you??  What kind of cruel joke IS THIS???  NOW, YOU’RE PAYING FOR IT!!!!!!!!!!!  BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

(zoom out)

I snap back to reality, escaping my PMS-induced imaginary rampage!

Took a deep breath…and continued shopping….

Random Ramblings 5-23 #leahwouldramble

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Here’s one of the bad things about having a few more than just a few beers on any given night: 

The next day, I crave junk food.

 (Side note:  I can justify drinking some beer last night ON A WEEK NIGHT (gasp!) with a mere few words: Anchorman Quote-Along.)

My healthy snacks/foods that I brought to work with me taste like poop.  I literally took one bite of my protein pancake, chewed for a few seconds, and then spit it out, back into the sandwich bag. (Yes, I looked all around first to make sure no one witnessed this first hand.) 

  Then I choked down my healthy home-made granola bar instead.  I think I hate raisins again.  And they’re almost IMPOSSIBLE to pick out of these granola bars.  It results in crumbs all over the place and sticky fingers.

Anyways…it is not ALL junk food that I crave.  I merely require ALL THE SALT AND ALL THE GREASE OF THE WORLD!!!!  This would explain why I am shoveling Lay’s potato chips into my mouth at an alarming speed, and before 11:00am, no less.  Not only will I rapid-fire each chip into my mouth, but I fully intend on

dumping the small particle contents from the bottom corner of the foil-lined sack (The most sodium-packed, greasy land of the whole inside of the bag!!) into my mouth!  down my throat! inside my pie-hole! (oh F— all THAT. Insert some innuendo here!)

eating all the crumbs!!

Anyone passing by my desk—beware!  If you come too close, I will assume you’re trying to steal my salty snack, and I might snarl and bite you.  Who doesn’t get territorial over their food when they’re ravenous??? Am I right?  Of course I am.

Now, I want Cheez Its.

“Roaches Crunch” #leahwouldramble

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A recent conversation, AND a recently viewed episode of “Kitchen: Impossible” has reminded me of my LOATHING for roaches.  Even now, as I write this, I feel the little “tickles” of invisible bugs crawling on my skin.  There are several insects I don’t care for, including wasps, bumblebees, ants…but MOST OF ALL—roaches.  Sure those other insects cause pain, but the roach exceeds that discomfort with “disgustingness”!  (I am discounting any crazy, tropical, man-eating bugs from any rainforest, etc. I don’t ever plan on encountering ANY of those.)

 

Thing is….in our old house when I was about seven or eight years old, there was a tree in the backyard that was infested with these:  http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.dirtdoctor.com/pics/content_img.4012.img.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dirtdoctor.com/Cockroaches_vq710.htm&h=1298&w=1944&sz=449&tbnid=HEDPyMJahxqXyM:&tbnh=81&tbnw=122&zoom=1&usg=__fuJ2gl8rjQLuRErxJ4L0Sywn6g4=&docid=pIYKgDXyzrNURM&sa=X&ei=MbKbUejNPJGx4AO9ioDACA&ved=0CDsQ9QEwAA&dur=286

 

 

They’re actually a water bug/some sort of oriental roach…whatever….they’re all disgusting cockroaches to me!!! SO…since this tree was infested, naturally, they made their way to our house….mainly to the basement….which is where my bedroom happened to be. SO…it was a fairly frequent occurrence, before having that tree removed at least, to smash these bugs when I saw them…in my bedroom…bathroom…play area in basement, etc. It REALLY grossed me out because not only did it often take 5-10 stomps to kill the little sons-of-bugbitches, they would also have the most disgusting guts ooze out of their bodies….EVEN when they were still crawling around after a couple stomps!! Like a rotten curd of cottage cheese sticking out of its side as it limps along!  **SHUDDERS**

 

UGH……and the CRUNCH noise…..ICK!!!!!! The sound makes me want to vomit RIGHT HERE AND NOW.

 

Seriously….makes me feel sick! (Side note: my brothers would taunt me at dinnertime, saying “Roaches crunch!” maliciously, so that I’d get that ‘visual/sound’ in my head, and I could/would not eat!)

 

Well there’s the background…I’m already grossed out by these vermin…and then….

 

One day, we’re moving boxes, etc. around in the basement, just doing some re-organizing, spring cleaning…that sort of thing. After a bit of this, I walk into my bedroom to take a break…I keep feeling a tickle on my back/shoulders….and finally I reach to scratch the offending spot, AND KNOCK A ROACH OFF MY BACK!!!!

 

I instantaneously start screaming, stomping, and jumping up and down like crazy.  ….AND continually swiping at my back in case millions have found a way to hide from me back there!!!  Millions of roaches on my back! I KNOW they’re there! I KNOW IT! I CAN FEEEEEL THEMMMM!!!! GET THEM OOOFFFFFFF! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!

 

TRAUMA! TEARS! STRESS!!!!

 

I reserve the right to forever stay out of the unfinished part of that damn basement!

 

Fast forward…I don’t know how long…maybe a month or two.

 

I have a fish-tank next to the front wall of my room, and it puts off enough light that I can make out most objects in my bedroom at night. (Yah; you know what’s coming.)

 

 As I lie in my bed comfortably, happy..sleepy…nice……JUUUUST drifting off to sleep, I see it—a menacing figure.  It crawls into my vision….A mere six inches from my FACE, it’s a roach crawling in my BED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

HOLY!!! SHIT!!! FUCK BALLS!!!

 

 I leap out of bed!!!! (This is NO exaggeration!! I could have touched the ceiling with this jump.)  Immediately having lost sight of the little creepy-crawly slime-ball, I strip all the sheets and blankets off my bed, and toss them to the floor with all of my force!

 

 Where is it; where is it; WHERE IS IT???????????

 

I start swiping franticly on my back, shoulders, everywhere!  What if it’s ON me!!! EWW!!!  I’m doing that same dance I mentioned earlier.  I’m stomping all the sheets and blankets as if they, themselves, are insects in NEED of DEATH! 

 

Then I stand back from my bed, dumbfounded…looking around my entire room, expecting insects to begin pouring from the ceiling in full-on attack mode!  I glance over the floor, back and forth, poring over every nook, every cranny, every misplaced book or toy where a roach can hide, but all the while, I am frozen in place.  Everything is silent. If this were a horror movie, (and it certainly felt like one) this would be the part where the giant ghost cockroach sneaks down from the ceiling to the unassuming victim and SUCKS ALL HER BRAINS OUT before she even knows what HIT her!!!!!

 

I never found it….NEVER…..FOUND….THE ROACH!!!

 

For all I know, it’s still living comfortably in my head after crawling into my ear that night, and is using my brain as its snack day by day!!!!!!

 

I fucking hate roaches……….HATE THEM.

 

#leahwouldramble Do a Happy Dance!

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Friday was a blast!  It involved me and my husband, Heather and her BF and her buddy, and Heidi and her Fiancé.  This is merely my side of the night’s story…

 We started early in the afternoon on a rooftop patio, with plates full of spicy nachos, hot wings, and potato boats.  Then, of course, there were the tasty libations.  I am a fan of beer, so I started out my drinking for the evening in a small way…three beers, and NONE of them light.  Then I thought, “Fuck that plate of nachos!  I don’t need no damn dinner!”  (And yes, that thought was in a sort of Southern twang accent.) I was already feeling a bit carefree.

 Eventually, when the need to relieve myself became urgent, I made my way to the restroom, which for some weird reason involved walking completely around the entire restaurant.  I thought it was odd that it was a single restroom…behind the cash register.  Upon reflection, I feared this may have been reserved for the employees, but at that point, it was too late.  That’s right; my piss—all in their toilet bowl!

A later trip with Heather to take another pee-break revealed that there was, indeed, another bathroom with multiple stalls.  It was hidden in the basement, after taking three staircases down, and passing a mysterious room full of various unused/discarded items.  (Seriously, it looked like a dusty flea market in that room!)  Was I expected to find this bathroom before…seriously?? How the hell was I supposed to know!?  I didn’t even see a bathroom SIGN!

 (There was probably a sign.)

When it became time to head over to our next location, my bladder was happily empty, and my tummy was happily full…of beer, with a few floating “nacho rafts”.  At our 2nd stop, we all shared some colorful fishbowls.  They…were…delicious!!!  And the neon straws were pretty exciting as well.  The best part was the fact that this is where my Hubbs joins us.  It was probably a good idea to have a sober/level head around at this point.

Then at our 3rd stop, we enjoyed cups full of more beer.  These cups were larger than my head…literally!  There was some pizza bought at this point, but I still had the “F*ck Food; I want this alcohol to do WORK!!” attitude.  I don’t remember how long we were on the roof of Kelly’s, but I know I liked it.

And finally…we reached our final destination for the evening.  I warned everyone that I didn’t know how to dance.  Oh, sure, I can keep a beat and move my hips with the music, but that’s the extent of it.  I know no dance moves, no tango, no cha-cha, not even a two-step!  Apparently, these facts go RIGHT OUT the window after a few cocktails and a happy night.  

The following may or may not be in perfect order and may or may not be slightly exaggerated.  This is how I was SURE things went down while there (and in parenthesis/italics is how it ACTUALLY looked):

“Wooooo! Let’s get this party started!!”  I holler to my girls as I sashay onto the dance floor. 

(“Woooo! Woooooo! (garbled incoherent something something) Wooooo!!” I yell to anyone who happens to be in a 50 ft radius as I stumble onto the dance floor, then back off the dance floor, then onto it again.)

While dancing, a well-known rap song comes on, and while shaking my ass, I’m rapping every single word perfectly with the artist playing over the speaker, surely impressing anyone around me.

(While ATTEMPTING to stay standing on heels while swaying hips, 2Pac’s “California” comes on.  “Wooooooooooooooooo!!!! I LOVE THIS SONG!!!  Yeeeeeaaaahhhh!!!!”  I mumble every fourth or fifth word AS IF I know the entire song, and stand perfectly still for 3 seconds in the middle of the dance floor just so I can try to remember it…then I shake my ass, while a few fellow dancers back away, frightened.)

While dancing, in a stunning and AMAZING display of grace and poise, I toss my purse into the air, do an awesome spin on my heels, then I catch my purse after my 180-degree turn.

(I start to trip over my heels and chuck my purse onto the ground and across the floor, then spin a few steps sideways, accidentally, while almost landing on my butt, and manage to scoop my purse back up off the ground and stagger back onto my feet as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.)

I notice a young woman on the edge of the dance floor who is wearing a crown.  She looks like she really wants to dance, so I ask her why she isn’t out there with all of us other girls.  She replies that her friends aren’t too into dancing, so I take her hand, and bring her over to join our group.  After all, since she is obviously celebrating one of her last free nights as a Bachelorette; she should REALLY rejoice to the fullest!

(I “dance” towards  a girl wearing a crown, who I assume is a bachelorette, and drag her onto the dance floor.  She is not a bachelorette.  She has just turned 21 and is out legally for the first time with her friends.  As she looks around with wide eyes because she doesn’t know how to respond, I continue to scream, “WOOOO!!! BACHELORETTE TURNED 21…DANCE…Us…YAH!! WOOOOO!!!! (some other garbled nonsense)”  She escaped me 5 minutes later, but not before I could photo-bomb at least one of her friends’ pictures.)

I am back to dancing with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!

(I am back to moving around like a dumbass with Heidi and Heather, and we are all smiles!)

At this point, I’ve decided to bust out a new dance move that I totally made up all on my own, AT THAT very second.  It’s so clever and fun!  I call it ‘The Marionette’, because I basically move my hand in a way that suggests my legs are hooked to strings from somewhere, and then I hold my puppeteer hand over Heather so I can “control the robotic” movements.  Totally Fresh! Totally new!! Everyone is impressed!

(Without any explanation at all, I high-knee walk towards Heather, and then I hold my hand in a claw type shape over her head.  As she looks up, she is yelling the question, “Jellyfish??”, wondering what the f*ck I am doing.  What kind of signal am I making with my hand?  It really does just look like a jellyfish type motion or a 5 legged octopus inking all over the place. I respond loudly, “MA-nette see yah??”   My movements are questionable, at best, and as I glance around, smiling, our significant others are watching from the side, laughing their asses off at me.)

I sing along with any song I know at the top of my lungs.  Everyone is thrilled to hear me!

(I sing along with any song that I know and that I don’t know at the top of my lungs.  Nobody even notices.)

I drop it like it’s hot.

(I fall on my ass.)

While standing back up, I whip my hair around smoothly, while maintaining all of my composure, and continue to move like a pro.

(I fling my hands towards my hair to get it out of my face and manage to knock my earring to the ground, and then step on it, breaking it in half, before snatching it from the ground and sticking it in my pocket.   I stumble to my knees again, before heaving myself back up off the floor and have a near meltdown due to the broken jewelry, then keep dancing, because what else can I do?)

After about nine hours of drinking, celebrating, etc, I felt it was time to go.  My husband and I walked happily to the truck to go home.  An evening well spent!

(After about nine hours of all the celebrating, my husband spends 20  minutes convincing me that it’s time to leave, and after exiting the bar  I unevenly walk towards the truck, barefoot, and serenading all of Westport with a song that no one can understand, but me.)